Your Eight O'clock is Dead

  Ivanov tsk-tsked, his fleshy lips flapping. “How disturbing for you, my dear. How very disturbing.”

  “It was awful,” I volunteered.

  “But why come to me?” Ivanov swept his hand through the air. “I like beauty, not ugliness. See my paintings, my furniture? This is how I live. With beauty. Did Max not explain this to you, my little thorn?”

  I gulped. I was the “little thorn” to this Russian mob tsar? That couldn’t be good. “No. I mean yes.”

  I shook my head to try to clear it.

  And reorient myself to the questions I needed to ask.

  Max’s strong hand squeezed my wrist. I chose to consider it a show of support.

  “Dmitri, I’ve told Becca I would help her.”

  “That was most unwise of you, my dear boy. Most unwise.” Ivanov narrowed his gaze and made another notation on the paper.

  “She is under my protection, Dmitri.” Max flashed a tight-lipped smile in my direction before returning his gaze to the mob tsar.

  “What do you need to know?” Ivanov got down to business.

  “We need to know if O’Malley was into drugs and gambling and if he owed money to anyone based on these activities. We need to know who would profit from his death. And then there’s Anna. You remember Anna Blake?” Max arched his eyebrow, and I glanced from him to Ivanov. There was some coded conversation going on here, one I wasn’t privy to.

  “Ah, yes, the lovely, but very disturbed Miss Blake. Her death was most,” he paused, “unfortunate.”

  “So you did know Anna?” I tried to rise from my chair, but Max continued to restrain me and Ivanov ignored me.

  “Anna was many things in her brief and troubled life. She did not deserve to die,” Max countered.

  “Do not tell me you’re going soft, Max,” Ivanov said.

  “Anna was an innocent in all of this,” Max replied.

  Dmitri threw back his head and laughed a full throaty sound. “Innocent? Our Anna? I think not.” He jotted on the paper again and then handed it off to Gregor, who nodded and disappeared.

  “Did Anna die because she loved Robert?” I managed to ask before Max could shush me.

  “And how would I know that, my little thorn?” Ivanov smiled benevolently at me. I’d never had a smile creep me out more, and I shrank back into the chair as far as I could manage.

  “Because Anna told me she watched Robert play poker with you and accompanied Robert to Colonial Downs where he placed large bets on the ponies, bets he couldn’t cover, but you could. He owed you big and you killed him,” I accused.

  “Becca!” Max said through gritted teeth.

  “So, Rebecca, you think I’m a common murderer?”

  “I never said anything about common,” I fired back.

  The room fell silent.

  Max was the first to recover. “She doesn’t know what she’s talking about. We’re here because you know and hear things. I was hoping you could steer us in the right direction. As a favor to me.”

  Dmitri nodded once. “Da. Yes. I believe that is why you came here. Not to insult or accuse me. This child does not understand how things work. That I do understand. I hold you responsible for not properly educating her before bringing her to me. But then you and I go back to another time and place. I am fond of you. You know that. You are here under protection. As is Rebecca. So, all is forgiven. I will pretend that I heard nothing that was said here.” Ivanov smiled another creep-me-out smile and gooseflesh crept up both of my arms.

  “How is dear Daisy, Max? I have not seen her for quite some time. I’ve missed her…” Ivanov paused again, searching for a word, before settling on, “gentleness.”

  “Leave Daisy out of this.” The anger in Max’s voice sent chills through me the same way Ivanov’s smile did. It was deadly and left no room for interpretation.

  Dmitri slammed both of his palms down on the desk causing papers to scatter and trinkets to jump. “Enough!”

  “Yes, enough,” Max agreed.

  I so wanted to ask what was happening, but this time I knew enough to stay silent.

  Self-preservation, sometimes it really did kick in.

  “O’Malley owed quite a bit of money in gambling debts. He was a fool. And a terrible gambler. Always in the past, his debts were covered by his wife’s money. With or without her knowledge, I don’t know. Nor do I care. But then he met Anna and her very expensive drug habit. His personal funds were cut off.” He held his right hand up. “I had nothing to do with his death. He left this earth owing me quite a bit of money, which meant he was worth more to me alive than dead, as was Anna. Now I will have to write off all of their debts.”

  “That’s a shame,” Max said and I blinked in surprise. “Come, Becca, we should leave. We’ve taken up enough of Dmitri’s time.” Both men rose. Ivanov came around the desk and he and Max embraced. I remained rooted to the chair unable to move. What was I missing here?

  Before I could say anything, Max placed his hand underneath my arm and urged me to my feet. “Come, Becca.”

  “A pleasure to meet you, Rebecca.” Ivanov bowed and I moved closer to Chernov. “Max, you must teach her some manners.”

  “We’ll work on that,” he replied.

  Gregor stood guard outside the office with his arms folded across his massive chest. I could easily see him stabbing Robert O’Malley with Dr. Daley’s letter opener and not blinking twice. I could also envision him killing Anna Blake.

  “Gregor.” Max nodded to the bodyguard, and Gregor nodded in return.

  I hurried along beside Max, staying close to him until we were back on the street.

  He whirled on me. “Did I not tell you to leave the talking to me?”

  “About that,” I began, wanting to apologize. He didn’t give me the chance.

  “Get in the car.” Max held open the passenger door for me, and I was only too happy to do as he requested. Okay, ordered.

  Max slid into the driver’s side and started the car, speeding away from the warehouse. The further we got away from Ivanov the safer I felt, the more relaxed.

  “Were you trying to get us killed?” Max finally managed. He took the onramp to Interstate 64 way too fast and the tires squealed.

  “Not exactly.”

  “Oh, well. Thank God you weren’t exactly trying. If you had been, we’d be dead for sure. What were you thinking, Becca? You accused one of the most powerful and dangerous men in this city of double homicide.”

  “We went there for answers. I was trying to get them.”

  “There’s a right way and a wrong way to go about these things with people like that. Your way was not the correct approach. We were lucky to get out of there alive.” Max sped up and passed everything on the highway. I was no longer worried about death by Ivanov.

  Death by a fiery crash was my more immediate concern.

  “Who’s Daisy?”

  Chernov turned his head quickly in my direction. “Forget Daisy. Forget today. Forget you ever met Dmitri. Hell, while you are at it, forget you ever met me. Why I agreed to take you there is beyond me. But it won’t happen again. That I can promise you.”

  Not that I was anxious to ever be in the same room with the Russian mobster, but I felt it was unreasonable for Max to blame me for how the meeting went. “You were just as rude to him as I was. You asked about the murders, too. Don’t be putting it all on me.”

  “That’s different.”

  “Oh sure. It’s different because it’s you.”

  “Correct.”

  We were silent for the rest of the ride. We pulled up outside of my grandfather’s house and I looked at Max, miserable that I’d made him mad enough to want to end our friendship. “I’m sorry. You asked me to let you do the talking and I should have. I hope when you’re not so angry you’ll change your mind about wanting to be my friend.”

  Max spared me a brief glance and what I saw there gave me hope that whatever Max and I had going wasn’t totally over. “Drop this murder invest
igation. For your well-being. You’ve been warned.”

  I climbed from the car and watched him drive off, reflecting on all that had transpired. Ivanov had admitted that he wasn’t connected to the murders. And he’d somehow threatened Max with a woman named Daisy. Max seemed to fall apart after that, which raised endless questions.

  If he thought I’d give up my investigation now, he was crazy. Plus now I had to find out who this Daisy person was and what hold she had over Max.

  Chapter 27

  Ryder had been absent from my life for a while. So had Max.

  As a result, nothing was going right in my life. At least, that’s how it seemed.

  Granddad continued “dating” the widow Alcott-Smith, whatever that meant in old people’s slang. I didn’t want to know. Max was still angry at me for letting me talk him into the whole Ivanov mafia meeting. The psychiatrists were still trying to get patients to come back to the office. My job (and me with it) still hung by a probational thread. Edna remained in jail, still accused of murder. And I was nowhere with my investigation.

  All I needed was a murderer.

  If I solved the case, Louisa Mae would go back to Atlanta where she belonged, and my granddad’s increased testosterone level would return to normal. Max might forget about Dmitri Ivanov, at least as his Russian friend related to me and we’d be on a normal footing again, whatever that was.

  Business would return to normal, or what passes for normalcy at Dailey and Palmer. I’d be a hero, or rather heroine, and my job would be safe.

  But I needed to solve the case.

  And I couldn’t even afford to buy a clue.

  Absorbed in my thoughts and returning late from lunch, as usual, I plowed down the hall toward Daley & Palmer at full steam, and almost crashed into the rock hard solid chest of R. J. Ryder, CPA to the glamorous and mysterious. I saw him just in the nick of time, which made a nice change and hopped nimbly to one side. Then I managed to ruin the whole nimble effect by stumbling over my own two feet and plopping onto the carpeted floor. Crap.

  “Steady, Becca.” A hand as large as a baseball mitt reached down and I took it, allowing myself to be hauled to my feet. “You okay?” Ryder asked.

  “Fine, thank you.” I dusted off my clothes and avoided looking him in the face. I really didn’t want to see if he was laughing at me.

  “So how have you been?” he asked while we walked down the long hallway toward our respective offices.

  “Okay. You?”

  “Busy.”

  Guess we were both keeping it short and to the point. We neared the offices, and the mysterious patient who sometimes visited the D & P suite – the one I still hadn’t gotten a handle on – came flying out of Ryder’s office. So she wandered in and out of other suites besides ours. Hmmm….

  I took her by the arm, deciding I was probably better equipped to take charge of her than Ryder.

  Besides, I wanted to ask if Marcy or Dr. Dick would be willing to evaluate her. “Come on. Let’s go have a glass of water and sit and chat,” I told her with a friendly smile.

  Ancarrow, Robert O’Malley’s business partner, emerged from Ryder’s suite, as well. “I thought we had a 1 o’clock appointment, R. J.” Ancarrow made his point by tapping the face of his watch with his index finger.

  “Keep your shirt on. It’s only five after.” Ryder glanced at the girl. “Daisy, are you okay?” Concern clouded his face. When she didn’t answer, Ryder asked again, turning her gently to face him. She seemed lost in another time, another place.

  “It’s okay, Ryder,” I spoke up. “She’s one of ours. I’ll take care of her.” So her name was Daisy. Well, who knew? Obviously Ryder. For some reason, the name rang a bell and I sorted through my memory as we entered the D & P suite. I could feel her shaking beneath my hand and frowned. Good grief. The girl was terrified.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked in concern, holding her hand tight in mine.

  She shook her head and pulled free, taking her usual place on the couch. I brought her a glass of water and a few Hugs from the jar on my desk.

  If anybody needed some calming chocolate, it was Daisy.

  Daisy? Then it hit me. No, it couldn’t be Ivanov and Max’s Daisy. It was a coincidence. It had to be.

  But then, I didn’t believe in coincidences.

  I watched as she carefully unwrapped the foil on the chocolate candy and put one in her mouth. Her hand shook badly. Something had her more spooked than usual. I weighed whether I should pursue the line of questioning I so desperately wanted with her so upset.

  “Daisy?” I waited for her to acknowledge me with a glance in my direction. I sat down beside her without crowding her and handed her another candy. She smiled shyly and took it from me.

  While she busied herself with the chocolate and whatever thoughts haunted her, I asked in almost a whisper, “Have you seen Max lately?” It was the most innocent question I could think of to ask. If she didn’t know Max, well, then no harm done.

  If she did know Max, then perhaps Daisy held important information that I needed.

  She stopped sucking on the chocolate momentarily, and I whispered my question to her again. “Max Chernov? Have you seen him lately?”

  This time she responded with a shake of her head. Did that mean she didn’t know him, or she hadn’t seen him lately?

  “Max is a friend of mine,” I offered and watched her face closely. I caught a telltale flicker in her eyes, and then she dropped her gaze.

  I reached for the glass of water on the coffee table and handed it to her. “Chocolates always make me thirsty. How about you?”

  She sipped the water and nodded with the slightest up and down movement of her head.

  We sat in silence. I wanted her to get comfortable with me. To not feel edgy around me. She had to be Max’s Daisy. Okay, so she didn’t have to be. But I desperately wanted her to be.

  “Do you know Ryder?”

  She turned to me and an angelic smile spread across her face at the mention of his name. Oh no. Please don’t tell me that this wounded creature was one of Ryder’s mystery ladies.

  “Have you known him for a long time?”

  She nodded, and we seemed to be on non-threatening ground. Her hands had stopped shaking and her body seemed less tense to me. I pushed ahead.

  “I like Ryder, but I don’t know him that well.”

  She reached up and stroked my face with the fingertips of her right hand. It was similar to what I’d seen in the movies when the blind study someone’s facial characteristics. Her touch moved gently, somewhat hesitantly over the contours of my face.

  “Do you think he’s nice?”

  She paused and took my hand and held it to her heart. I didn’t know what to make of that. Was she telling me she loved Ryder? Or did she think he was worthy of being loved? Or did she simply not know what I was asking?

  Marcy appeared at the door of her office. “Becca, do you have my schedule? I can’t find it.” She spotted Daisy and her voice softened. “Hello, Daisy. Are you here to see Dr. Daley?”

  Damn. She knew our mystery patient, too. Was I the only one who didn’t know Daisy? So much for communication around here.

  “I’m not sure Dr. Daley has an appointment with her today,” I offered.

  Marcy furrowed her brow. “She really should only be here if she has an appointment. I suggest you check with Dick.” Not waiting for my answer, Marcy threw a quick look of concern at Daisy and then gave a not-my-problem shrug before disappearing into her office.

  The exchange seemed to bother Daisy, who tried to blend into the couch. I returned to her side.

  “Are you okay?” I asked and stroked her hand. It seemed to comfort and relax her. “Sometimes she frightens me, too,” I added, thinking about when Marcy had gotten so angry after Anna’s graveside service. Daisy smiled at me in a lovely girl-bonding moment.

  “You can’t tell anyone, but I actually heard one of her patients call her the Wicked Witch of the West End,” I a
dmitted, and much to my surprise Daisy nodded her head in agreement.

  A tiny smile formed on her lips.

  And then she laughed. It was a pure, sweet sound, the sound of a child’s laughter.

  I joined in, unable to help myself, and she reached over and gave me a quick, tight hug.

  Marcy called out for me. I didn’t quite catch what she wanted, but Daisy and I both jumped like we’d been caught doing something we shouldn’t.

  I motioned for Daisy to stay on the couch, but before I could make myself clear, she rose and waved good-bye. And just like that, she was gone.

  I frowned in concern. I could see why Max wanted to protect her from harm. But how did she know Dmitri Ivanov? And what about her reaction to Ryder? What was that all about? And then there was Marcy Palmer. Dr. P. knew Daisy by name. What else did she know?

  “Becca, could you also bring my mail?” Dr. Palmer called.

  I scooped it up and crossed to her office where I set it on her desk.

  She took the stack with a sigh and proceeded to use her silver letter opener—a match to the one that had been plunged into Robert O’Malley—and used it to slit open each envelope with an action that bordered on such violence I could almost see Marcy Palmer plunging a knife, or a letter opener, into someone without a second thought – if it suited her purposes. She pulled out the contents of the first envelope and then went on to the next.

  I must have made some sort of sound or given her an odd look because she raised her eyebrows.

  “What?” Her gaze followed mine, dropping to the letter opener in her hand. “This?”

  I slowly nodded.

  Intense sympathy swept across her face. “I’m so sorry. It must bring back horrible memories, Becca. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “It wasn’t just that. It was your expression.” Why, oh why had I said that? “You looked so angry.” Great. I’d even found a way to make it worse.

  For some reason, my admission didn’t faze her. “I’m not surprised.”

  Huh? I sure was.

  “It’s all these bills,” she explained. “I have no idea how we’re going to pay them.”

  Now it was my turn to look sympathetic. “Don’t you worry, Marcy. The police will catch the murderer.” With my help.